


The Most Important Soul

by CloverHighFive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverHighFive/pseuds/CloverHighFive
Summary: It is the story of Castiel saving Dean from Hell. Castiel has to fight demons but mostly Dean's own brokenness to try and save him.





	The Most Important Soul

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I decided to headcanon that Castiel knew Jimmy Novak would say yes should he need a vessel and thus adopted his shape even before he occupied his body.  
> 2\. Remember how Castiel took Demon!Dean down a notch just by holding him? This fic here is my headcanon backstory.  
> *All fanart credited at the end.

 

_Castiel remembered saving Dean from Hell. Every time he looked at him, he remembered it all._

 

**Prologue**

Castiel was a good soldier. Fierce, absolute. He got things done. So when the hunter Dean Winchester, destined to be the vessel of Michael, was dragged to Hell, Castiel was called upon to rescue him. Castiel gathered a garrison of angels and left.

The garrison had fought its way down to the deepest pits of Hell. Castiel, burnt, broken, had found this soul, already contorted, having given in to the pleasures of inflicting pain, torture and despair. Was that soul still salvageable? The thought didn’t even cross Castiel’s mind. He had his orders.

 

**Salvation**

Down in a corner of Hell, Dean was wiping a knife, just done with torturing a soul. The damned one had been made whole again and reattached in the fiery pits. Dean was rearranging his tools, a satisfied grin on his face. He looked up just as a group of human-shaped winged beings surrounded him. He looked around, perplexed, as he swiftly took a knife from his tool tray.

One being stepped in from the circle. “Hello, Dean,” he said, “my name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.” Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. He took in the 3 pairs of damaged wings. “Angel?” “Yes.” Dean waved at the circle of winged beings with his knife. “Angels. Really?” “Yes, Dean.” Dean just couldn’t believe it. “And you’re an angel.” “Yes, I am Castiel.” “What the hell are you doing here?” Castiel stepped forward. “I am here to save you.”

“Wait. What?” Dean froze in utter disbelief. “You… what?” The angel started to walk towards him. “I will take you and raise you out of Hell. You do not belong here.” Dean stood there, his mouth open, unable to form a thought. The angel’s grace, a warm, peaceful, yet fierce glow of blue energy, started to flow around. With purpose, the glow engulfed Dean.

Dean’s face softened, the knife dropped to the ground. Castiel extended a hand. “Come with me. Hold on to me. It’s a tough road up out of here. We will protect you. I will protect you.” Dean blinked and took a step back outside of the blue glow. He picked up a pick from the tool tray. He gestured to the still blood-dripping rack where he’d just ripped a soul apart and told the angel, without looking at him, “It’s too late. I’ve given in. I’m beyond saving.”

Castiel didn’t seem to react. He simply got closer to Dean, who stood still, staring at the blue glow gathering around him again, taking it in. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he needed it. Castiel looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry Dean, we don’t have much time. I must take you with me.” He stepped forward and laid his left hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Castiel’s grace sparked blindingly brighter. He felt the softest love in Dean’s heart, his yearning for solace and forgiveness. This man was destined to be a perfect vessel in a unavoidable war between Heaven and Hell, yet all Castiel could see is the beauty of his Father’s Creation. A man of pure intent, a man craving for every soul on earth to have a chance at a long, fulfilling life. At that very moment, Castiel knew he had to protect this man with all his might.

As Dean was trying to comprehend what was happening, he saw demons break through the line of angels. Castiel felt the shift in Dean’s awareness and snapped out of his revelation. Every angel had sprung into fights, pushing demons away.

But one got through. Dean’s eyes widened as he recognized Alastair, the demon who had tortured him every day, the demon who had offered him every day the opportunity to make it all stop only if he’d torture souls himself, the demon who had watched him with pride as Dean showed skill in the art of torment.

Alastair gripped a hook from the tool tray. “This one is ours!”, he spat at Castiel, hooking Dean to drag him away. Dean screamed in pain as he held on to the hook. Castiel caught Dean and tried to get a hold of Alastair, but Alastair, still holding the hook, was forcefully taken by another angel. The hook ripped into Dean, who fell back onto Castiel unconscious as the angels fought Alastair away. Castiel looked at Dean in horror as he held him. Blood flooded out from a gash that went from his waist up to his shoulder. “DEAN! DEAN!” he screamed. Dean didn’t react. Castiel quickly closed the wound, turned Dean so he’d be facing forward, repositioned his right arm around him and gripped his shoulder, holding him tight. He took his blade out and gestured to his garrison. “Now rise!”

If the fight down into Hell had been long and hard, the fight out of Hell was worse. Dean Winchester was a prize Hell did not want to give up. The angels fought fiercely. Castiel held Dean as close as possible as he partook in the battle.

The garrison was almost halfway out when Dean woke up. He saw the war raging around him. He felt the sharp, deep burn of the cut Alastair had made into him. Those angels… they didn’t look like they could win this fight. He didn’t want to be killed in the crossfire. He asked himself, can I be killed if I am already dead? He thought about how you can torture a soul down here, and if you can bleed… you can die. He had to do something.

Castiel felt Dean stir. “You’re awake! Hold on, Dean, please!” But Dean was trying to get free. “Dean! What are you doing?” Dean turned a contorted face to Castiel. “Let me go, or let me fight! I will not stand by and get killed!” He trashed as hard as he could. Castiel held Dean harder. “I cannot let you go. I cannot risk you dying. It’s safer if you stay with me.” Dean tried to pry away Castiel’s arm again, without any success. “Why are you saving me? Believe me, I’m not worth it!” Castiel shot an annoyed look at Dean while impaling a lower demon. “Would you just hold still?” he said, as he looked around. He saw there was no more oncoming immediate attack. He looked Dean in the eye. “You are worth it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here.” Dean held the angel’s gaze, blinked his eyes to black. “Sorry pal. The guy you’re looking for is gone.” Castiel sighed, looked around to assure himself that indeed, there was a slight pause in attacks, and screamed to his garrison, “Brothers! Sisters! Cover me!”

Castiel sheathed his blade, and made a cocoon around Dean and himself with two of his most intact wings. Dean looked at the angel, his eyes still black, his brows furrowed. “What are you doing?” “What I was sent to do. Save you.” Castiel wrapped his now free arm around Dean to hold him just right, and bent his head down so his cheek would rest against Dean’s temple. Dean tried to get his head away from this unwanted contact, in vain.

Castiel felt Dean’s darkness arise through his psyche. He knew Dean’s soul was shattered and most pieces were black with the twisted resolve of inflicting pain onto others. He knew the blow Alastair had dealt him must have awakened his rage even further. Castiel made his grace glow into Dean, who was still fighting against him.

Suddenly, Dean felt a soft warmth enveloping him. He closed his eyes, his need to fight slowly subsiding. He found himself surprised at giving in.

Castiel looked inside Dean. He was searching for what he had felt before, Dean’s true heart. He only saw the singed pieces of his soul and the blue light of his own grace traveling through Dean. Tiny sparks of bright blue seemed to take hold onto littles pieces.

Dean felt the raging fire in his core finally subside. The sounds around him were muffled. He felt as if his self was a vast expanse of blackness slowly dotted with more and more tiny sparks of relief. Unexpectedly, Castiel’s arms gradually felt like an embrace, the hope of a home, a home Dean never had, a home where forgiveness and love had a taste of eternity. His need for comfort took him over –

“Ahhh!” Castiel straigtened up. A demon had managed to break the angels’ line of defence – and had dealt a blow to Castiel’s wings. “I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, as he opened up their cocoon. He took his blade out again to fight the demon off.

Dean held on Castiel’s arm, shaken out of his trance. He looked at the demon and, somewhere from the depths of his mind, he knew normally he would have wanted to fight. But not right now. He needed to hold onto Castiel’s promise of protecting him, onto the thought he was, against all hope and logic, indeed being saved.

But as the angels fought on, as the pit of Hell grew smaller, as the light of day came slowly closer, Dean wondered if it had only been a dream. Images of all the souls he had tortured came back to him in waves, and Dean came to the conclusion this rescue was a mistake. He watched the angels fight. He saw their feathers falling, he saw their blood. He saw some die. He felt their deaths weigh on his soul.

Castiel felt Dean’s energy falling. “Dean, what’s wrong?” “You shouldn’t have come for me. I’m not worth all of this.” Dean let go of Castiel and slipped off out of his arm. “NO!” Castiel screamed, catching Dean up, as a new wave of demons was fast approaching. Castiel gripped Dean tighter. “I’m sorry Dean, we’ll talk about this when you’re safe.” He flipped his blade in his hand and pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Dean fell asleep. Castiel lept into battle again.

Dean woke up with a start to a deafening “DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED!” He blinked in the blinding light of midday. He was lying in the grass, in the arms of a bruised and bloody Castiel, whose singed and almost featherless wings were but a distant souvenir of their former glory. Dean and Castiel were both out of breath. Dean was surprised to be alive, Castiel was exhausted. The angels around them – there seemed to be fewer still – nodded at Castiel and disappeared.

Dean closed his eyes against the sun as he clumsily rolled off Castiel. “So what now? We won?” Castiel could only muster a whispered “yes”. They laid there for a moment, on their backs.

Castiel regained his composure. He propped himself on an elbow. “How are you feeling, Dean?” Dean sat up with a wince. “Um, I’m OK I guess.” Castiel cocked his head. “Here.” He put a hand on Dean. Dean felt Castiel’s soft warmth into him again, repairing fully the injury from Alastair’s attack. Dean closed his eyes, taking in slow, long breaths. Castiel took his hand away. “How do you feel now?” Dean opened his eyes. “I’m better.” He looked intensely at the grass. “But I still think you got the wrong guy,” he said, matter-of-factly. He looked up at Castiel, his eyes black.

Castiel sat up and got closer to Dean. Dean’s eyes flicked back to their normal green. He looked at the angel scooting closer, a concerned look on his face. Castiel sat facing Dean’s side, a leg behind him and a leg in front of him. Dean seemed ill at ease. “What are you doing?” “I told you, Dean. Saving you.” Castiel took Dean’s face in his hands and started glowing, staring deep into Dean’s eyes, into his soul.

The damage was immense. Castiel sent his grace in to try and repair some parts. While he did that, he searched again for Dean’s true essence. He needed to find it so his grace could hold on to something solid and thus remove the black eyes permanently. Meanwhile, little blue sparks danced around, attaching themselves to the charred pieces of Dean’s soul.

Dean blinked. “Castiel, I… I’m not sure what you’re doing is working.” Castiel straightened up and took his hands off Dean’s face. “Why?” “I don’t know. It feels good, but… I don’t feel any real change. This darkness, it’s still gnawing inside.” Castiel took a moment to think. Dean hanged his head and looked away. “Dean, healing takes time. Your soul is very broken.” Dean looked up at Castiel. “I’ve done so much… I don’t deserve to be saved.” Castiel sighed. “Do you know what I see when I heal you?” Dean shook his head, waiting for the answer. “I see blue. It is not your colour, though, it is mine, from my grace. It is healing you, but I have yet to find your spark. Then, you’ll feel the change.” Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t have a spark,” he said, barely audible, as he looked away, “not anymore.” “Yes you do. Look at me.” Dean peeked from under his eyebrows, his green eyes brimmed with tears.

Suddenly, Castiel’s grace pulled him deep into Dean in a flash of blue, leading him to a specific place. Castiel’s consciousness came to a halt, and he marveled at a tiny piece of yellow light shining fiercely, pieces of black soul breaking off and falling from it. Castiel whispered, “Dean, I found it. Your spark.”

Dean’s eyes widened and tears rolled down his cheeks. He gripped Castiel’s arms.

Castiel felt himself crash into the yellow light. He felt the force of how much Dean cared about saving people, saving this world. He felt all the courage and resilience Dean had in himself to fight, to do what’s right. He felt all the love Dean had for his father, for his mother, for Bobby and all the people who had come into his life, helping him with cases and hunts. He felt Dean’s ultimate sacrifice for his brother – going to Hell – done, yes, out of his need to always look out for Sam, but, most of all, out of undying, unconditional love for his little brother, out of Dean’s certainty that the world is better with Sam in it, that Sam deserves to live more than himself. Castiel was amazed at how Dean’s strength came from his deep love. Again, Castiel stood in awe at this man doing an angel’s work, protecting humanity, his Father’s most precious Creation. As this new wave of revelation came upon Castiel, every wavelength of his being longed to fight for Dean, to keep him safe. Castiel hoped he could show Dean how much he is loved. He hoped, in time, Dean could see his own value. He vowed to stay by his side, always.

Castiel felt something give. He focused his gaze on Dean. “You’re crying.” Dean pulled on Castiel a little. “Heal me, Castiel, heal me… please.” Dean moved in closer and passed his arms around Castiel’s chest, holding him tight. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean. “With every last drop of my grace, I will heal you, Dean.”

Castiel sent all of his grace into Dean in a torrent, responding to a violent craving coming from Dean’s spark. The blue glow collided with the yellow light, sending gold fireworks about. The blue torrent became gold, igniting Dean from the inside of his soul. Castiel saw black pieces shatter to give place to more gold light. There was so much to do, so much darkness to fight…

Dean was holding Castiel with all his strength. He felt a tremendous load being lifted off from deep inside. He burrowed his face deeper into Castiel’s shoulder, screaming in relief. He held on tight until he felt peace in complete abandon, certainty in this unexpected love, the strongest yet softest love he’d ever felt. Exhausted, he let go completely, falling down.

Castiel came back to himself and caught Dean up, cradling his head. “Dean, are you OK?” Dean opened his eyes. They were red from crying. “Cas…” he whispered. “Yes, Dean,” Castiel said softly. Dean said nothing. He looked into the eyes of the angel. They were a deep blue, and Dean could see Castiel’s grace sparkle amidst the various shades of his eyes as the light danced on them. Castiel took in the olive green colour of Dean’s eyes. He looked at him a moment and asked, “Now, do you feel like you’re rid of the black eyes?” Dean blinked a few times. “Yes. I’m good. Thank you.” He looked into those blue eyes a moment more. “Thanks Cas.”

Dean sat up. He looked at himself. “So I am alive? I am back? This is… me?” Castiel shook his head. “No. This is your soul’s projection of your body. Your body is still in there.” He pointed behind Dean. Dean turned around to see a crude, simple wooden cross. “This is my grave?” “Yes. Your brother didn’t want to burn your body, so it’s in there. It has been made whole again and you will get back into it.”

Dean turned and looked at Castiel. He took a breath but didn’t speak. “What is it, Dean?” Dean looked down. He picked some grass from his jeans. “What happens after you’ve put me back? Will you stay? Or do you have to go back to Heaven?” He looked up at Castiel. “I mean… Heaven is your home, right?” “Yes, Heaven is my home. But I will stay here with you. Only, you won’t remember me.” Dean’s eyes widened. “Why?” Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just how it is. You shouldn’t remember Hell either, but it was deep in you, so I cannot guarantee that.” Dean’s brow furrowed, his lips quivered. “You’re telling me… I’ll remember all the things that were done to me… all the things that I have done… but I won’t remember you? What kind of sick joke is that?” Castiel looked puzzled. “It is not a humoristic attempt at anything.” Dean grabbed Castiel by the arm. “Cas! Seriously! You can’t bring me back with all the bad stuff and none of the good stuff! How can I –” Dean’s voice broke.

Castiel put his hand on Dean’s and looked up at him. “Look. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here. I’ll watch over you.” “But…” “Dean, your soul has sustained extreme trauma. I have healed you the best I could, the most I could. The rest will take time. And I’ll be here.” Dean’s eyes were red with trying to hold the tears in. He pulled at Castiel as he asked, his teeth clenched, “Promise me.” Castiel took Dean’s face in his hands. He felt, inside himself, a sparkle of Dean’s gold floating about in the blue of his own grace. Castiel whispered softly, “On my eternal life.” And he sent Dean in his body.

* * *

* * *

 

* * *

 

Credits! I'm missing some in spite of my best efforts and Google's reverse-pic search.   
If you have information pertaining to the missing credits, I'll be more than happy to edit and credit!

1 - Pinterest only, no credit.  
2 - [[mathiaarkoniel on Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/mathiaarkoniel/art/supernatural-Castiel-524498319)].  
3 - Pinterest only, no credit.  
4 - [@feredir](https://tmblr.co/mOxyCkHEvjKG5YJDthQQsxQ)  [[post here](http://feredir.tumblr.com/post/124020411564/for-the-deancas-requests-in-my-askbox-i-made-this)]  
5 - [@shaaktistardis](https://tmblr.co/m4zveG2TlpxySBNHTqbbnJg) [[post here](https://shaaktistardis.tumblr.com/post/177995744170/castiel-raising-the-soul-of-dean-winchester)]  
6 - screencap from a [[gif](https://acollectivemind.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/tumblr_nbres1hwxj1qkvwd2o1_500.gif?w=798)]  
Dean getting out of his grave at the end : Google.


End file.
